Ulysses
by MDAM-FASEGold
Summary: A terrorist attack on Pendragon leaves HM's Government in ruins. With the heads of government dead, including the PM and Chancellor and growing discontent in the colonies, the 'Mediocre Prince', Odysseus, has to leave his younger brother's shadow and be an actual first prince, all while everyone from numbers to royals wants a piece of the chaos. [AU]
1. Smile

**Pendragon D.R, the Capital of the Holy Britannian Empire, is situated on the west bank of the Colorado River in the Mojave Desert. It is built on top of the town of Meadows, in the Dukedom of Nevada after the capital was moved from Alexandria, District Royal (Now Alexandria, Virginia). Construction began in the early twentieth century with its completion just after the Emblem of Blood period, making it the crown jewel of Charles (III) di Britannia coronation. The district covers a twenty by twenty mile square in the centre of the County of Clark and is under the direct control of the Emperor, though it effectively run by the Pendragon Administrative Council, a board of directors, each handpicked every year by the reigning monarch. The city has a wide range of attractions, the most notable and technologically impressive being the Darwinian Gardens that surround the main palace off of the St Darwin Street Ring Road. This large man-made park is fed directly from Lake Mead and from the surrounding hills of Goodsprings and Mount Charleston.**

 **Pendragon D.R, Encyclopaedia Britannia.**

C1: Smile

Odysseus eu Britannia wasn't an idiot by any stretch of the imagination. He had more common sense, civility and about at least four times as many brain cells than half of the imperial court. Though he knew was seen as an emotional dimwit, it's hard not to when you are surrounded by brothers and sisters with heads that could rival that of the late Einstein on their shoulders. He didn't have Cornelia's ability to plan, strategize and improvise battles, Schneizel's impossible diplomatic and leadership skills, or Guinevere's scary proficiency in intrigue, whispers and manipulation. It was no wonder why that he, the first-born and crown prince of Britannia was practically a laughing stock when compared to his family.

He sat on his seat, in a quaint office in his eu Britannia familial home, signing off another piece of legislation that had been passed through parliament. As much as his brother, Schneizel, may be the Prime Minister of the House of Commons, there were checks and balances in place to make sure there the PM couldn't take to much power, such as being both the Chancellor of Britannia, the head of the House of Lords, and the Steward of Britannia, which was Odysseus' job, the acting head of state and voice of the Emperor.

The study that he worked in was, by Royal standards, pretty bland. He wasn't Clovis after all. Sure all of it was fine craftsmanship, but he opted out of the gold leafing and bejewelled accessories that the la Britannia prince went for. The room itself wasn't too large either compared to the other study's in the eu Britannian home, the Janus Villa. Odysseus felt after all, that the three-level office that he was first offered when he was sixteen was more a library than a place of work. At least his, by no means small, office had some personality and felt like 'his' space to work in. It also had the added benefit of making any stuck up noble feel out humbled by the prince, which provided wonders for keeping them in their place and for him to get his way.

He set down a mug of, now cold, coffee on his workplace and closed down his computer for the day. It was only three in the afternoon and he had to make haste to the Cabinet meeting in central Pendragon, glancing at his watch he sighed. "I'm going to be late." The Cabinet meeting consisted of the Prime Minister, the Chancellor, the Marshal of the Army, the Marshal of the Air Force, the Admiral of the Fleet, the Steward, and a number of First Ministers of the numerous departments and ministries of HM Government, from Education, to Housing and Development, to Area Development. As the Steward of Britannia, he didn't really have any power and usually was there making sure none of the Members of Cabinet were at each other's throats.

Since this was practically a familial visit, Odysseus had opted for his Coast Guard Officer's Dress, rather than deal with the over the top clothing royals tended to wear. In all honesty, he would have gone to the meeting in jeans and T-Shirt, but that would be 'improper'. Getting into the driver's side of his car, a simple black four-by-four, he waited for his knight of honour, Karan Neiderstein, slip in next to him. "Your Royal Highness, I still insist that I drive."

"You know, Karan, that I don't care. It's literally twenty minutes down the road, and remember, you're the better shot." He shot her a sly smile. "Don't look at me like that, you know it's true." She gave him a doubting look. "Okay, okay… I'll let you drive back, deal?"

She sighed before radioing the rest of the guard. "Both the convoy and the decoys say they are good to go."

"Tell them to move out."

"This is Kilo-Actual to all units, move at will." She said, letting go of the Push To Talk button. "Put on your seat belt sir."

"Oh shit. Sorry." He clicked in, turned on the key and set off down St Darwin Street towards Henderson Street, the second most important place in Pendragon after the Imperial Palace. It was one of the three centres of non-royal power in Britannia, along with the Judiciary on East Clark Street and Parliament of Stewart Avenue. Henderson Street housed most of the Governmental buildings. He glanced at the dashboard as he made through the setting sun. "Well, Cornelia is going to be pissed. 'Odysseus, why are you always late' she'd say. Well maybe is our loving brother didn't have me give me a forest of paperwork I wouldn't have to deal with this."

"I bet Schnizel would make some comment about how being an officer of the Coast Guard should mean you'd be used to this. Then Cornelia would say that the Coast Guard isn't a real branch of the military."

"You know, I've taken an active roll in drug busts, without the relative safety of a nightmare."

"I know, remember that one when we were busting that ship off the coast of Cuba, in Area three?"

"Well, you should take some credit."

"You took point, leading us through a sinking ship with Three's shooting at us from all angles. "

"True."

"They were good times, eh? Kicking ass throughout the Gulf."

"If you call getting shot at by the Cartel's fun. Sure why not." He slipped off the motorway and dropped down a gear before coming to a red light. Henderson was just around the corner, coming out of from the lights, he moved across the roundabout.

Suddenly everything was a blur.

Odysseus felt dizzy, sort of like coming off a roller coaster, but a hell of a lot more painful. Slowly coming back to reality he saw his airbags had deployed. He fiddled around for the door handle, slipping out of the car. He gripped the frame and looked back to see a semi truck had smacked the back of his car. Looking across to the passenger side, he saw Karan still out of it. "Bollocks." Slipping into the footwell, he removed his Personal Defence Weapon, a German K-18 automatic pistol, and a first aid kit. The car was all spun around and a number of the rest of his convoy were, given the sound of gunfire, in the middle of a firefight. Gripping the edge of the vehicle, he hobbled around to see a number of men in green uniforms filing out the back of the semi. They were clearly not Britannian.

He kept low and assessed the situation. He should stay behind the car; it was made to be bullet resistant to small arms fire. He knew there was a flak vest and helmet on the back seat. _Should put that on and check if Karan is okay._ He muttered slipping back in and getting his armour on. His knight groaned awake. _That's a good sign_.

"Hey there Karan…" He tapped her shoulder.

"Odysseus!" She shouted, suddenly waking up properly. "Shit…" She winced, grabbing the lower left of her torso. In a slight daze, she looked over to see her charge unclipping her from her seat and pulling her out of the driver's door on the right side of the car. She fell out onto soft grass of the roundabout's middle.

"Hey, hang in there." He pulled up to check the side she was holding. "There's no blood. That's a good start." He ducked reflexively as a bullet ricocheted off of the bonnets. He grabbed the radio from her person, pressing the PTT. "This is Papa-one-one, to Kilo-one, I need a sitrep, over."

"Kilo-two here, Terrorists got Kilo-one, sir. They hit Ten Henderson Street too sir. Over."

"Shit. Did everyone get out? Over."

"No idea sir. We're on the way… Kilo-two out."

Odysseus moved to the side of the car, he propped Karan up against the glass. With the pistol raised, a terrorist turned around the corner, only to be shot by the prince who grabbed the assault rifle on the terrorist's still warm body. A quick glance showed it was, in fact, a Japanese knockoff of the SA-10 A2 bullpup rifle. He crawled to the corner and popped around the corner, getting a good look at the situation. He saw a small group of the terrorists start running up towards him. Gabbing a grenade off the Japanese man's body. He pulled the pin, let the fly handle drop and blindly threw it behind him.

"Sir, I'm coming around the front of the car, don't shoot. Copy."

"Copy. Over." A man in grey urban camouflage fatigues came around the corner. "Lieutenant Cooper. Cover the rear. I'll carry the Dame."

"Yes, my lord."

The prince looped his knight's arm around his shoulder and began dragging her towards the gates at Henderson Street, which was lit up by the burning rubble of the Cabinet building. There were members of the District Royal Metropolitan Police armed with Springfield SA-15's A1's. Lieutenant Cooper hung back in a low walking stance, creeping backwards shooting at anything that threatened his prince. Both Karan and Odysseus hobbled as quickly as possible to the gate. A number of police officers were waving for him to get inside the gate's boundaries laying his knight down against the blast door. With the assault rifle still around his neck, the prince brought it up. "Kilo-two! Get your ass in here. Providing covering fire."

The guard walked back quicker, quickly slipping into the protective main gate. He tossed himself onto the floor. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He said, quickly. "You all good, my lord?"

"Yes, how are the rest of the guard?"

"They are all in advantageous positions, slowly whittling down at the remnants of the enemy."

"You did well. Not bad for an RMAWP grad." Odysseus joked, trying to lighten the mood for himself more than anyone. He turned to one of the policemen. "What's the situation at number ten?"

"Not good. Her Highness li Britannia was about to enter the front door when a bomb went off. The rest of the Cabinet, apart from yourself and Her Highness, are believed dead. Sir."

"Where is she?"

"Number Eleven, getting medical attention, sir."

"Show me."

"Yes, my lord." The officer looked somewhat surprised by Odysseus's lack of emotion, the calming smile replaced by a thin line. Odysseus himself knew it was quite out of character for him. "You okay, sir?" He sighed and nodded. It wasn't the first time he had lost a sibling, and probably wouldn't be the last.

He, now in blood-stained dress blues, walked over to townhouse as the local security personnel attempting, poorly, to put out the flames of the Georgian style building. The panicking civilians running about the place attempting to get organised as the first prince walked forwards looking for the crimson coats of Cornelia's personal guards. He caught the eye of Darlton outside one of the boardrooms; he came to attention and saluted. "Your Royal Highness, Her Highness is inside. A word of warning about your sister… She is shaken."

"Thank you, Major General. At ease." He returned.

Walking into the room Guilford was seen wrapping the bloodied arm of a clearly shocked Cornelia. "Sister." He said kneeling down in front of her, he took off his helmet and placed it on the table, the purple eyes still gave a thousand yard stare. "Look at me…" She was clearly trying to keep it in, tears welling in her eyes, lips quivering, as a pair of snow-white hands gripped the knuckles of the armchair. He softly placed his hands on top as he kneeled down to make things easier for her. "Nellie… I know it's hard. But I'm here." He turned to Guilford. "Could I get a minute with my sister?"

"Yes, Your Royal Highness." He came to attention, as did the rest of the Glaston Knights before Guilford saluted and left the two royals together.

"Thank you." He nodded in return. Once all of her soldiers left, the kneeling Odysseus brought his sister into a hug. He could feel her racing heart as she came closer, with the door finally closed, the bottled up tears and emotions came spilling out. "This is good Cornelia, dont bottle anything up..."

"Dysse, Euphie was a hairs breath from losing me…"

"But she didn't, did she?"

"No, but…"

"Nellie, you are alive and kicking, aren't you?"

"Yes, but…" She stammered out.

"But nothing… You can go home and spend time with Euphie, in fact as the current head of government, I order you to do so."

"What about the letter…"

"You forget that that is my duty." He said, letting her rest back into the chair. "I'm the Steward, and we have to deal with this shitstorm tomorrow." He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her exposed shoulders. "Come on. I'll get Sergeant Cooper to drive you home and I'll come by and cook you and Euphie dinner."

He may not have had Cornelia's ability to plan, strategize and improvise battles, Schneizel's impossible diplomatic and leadership skills, or Guinevere's scary proficiency in intrigue, whispers and manipulation. It was no wonder why that he, the first-born and crown prince of Britannia was practically a laughing stock when compared to his family. He had his own type of genius, he was interpersonally intelligent, and he understood how to make people happy. The sad smile on his sister's face was enough to confirm that.

Odysseus eu Britannia wasn't an idiot by any stretch of the imagination.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **This is about an AU as it can get... Schniezel and a number of other royals, nobles, and ministers get killed. Government is in chaos and it's going to have worldwide ramifications as the delicate balance of the Royal Court gets chucked out the window.**

 **I was thinking about killing Cornelia too, but I now have some interesting possibilities to take her, like how she should deal with coming close to death, leaving Euphie nearly in the hands of the Emperor to use as he pleased. So many directions, so many possibilities.**

 **This story, however, will be mainly focused on Odysseus, with the odd chapter deviation to expand the scope of the event. So I expect there should be some Cornelia, Lelouch and Suzaku points of view as well as many one-off ones. Who knows.**

 **Adios Amigos**

 **MDAM-FASEGold**


	2. High Society

**Gran Columbia, officially known as the Grand Dukedom of New Grenada, is the most northernmost Grand Dukedom of Area Six, currently under His Grace, King of Spain (IE*) and Grand Duke Juan Carlos I Bourbon. Gran Columbia itself is split into three major Dukedoms (Columbia, Venezuela and Ecuador), each former colonies of Spain. They remained colonies of Spain until 1862 a.t.b when republican rebels, under the leadership of Simon Bolivar, used the chaos of the Napoleonic War of the Peninsular to secede from Spain. For ten years, the country remained under Republican control, while Britannia, still fighting Napoleon, had retaken Area Two (Canada) and annexed Area One (Louisiana, Northern Mexico, Cascadia), the Area Three (Antillean Federation (West Indies), United States of Central America, Mexican Empire), Area Four (Danish Greenland), Area Five (Danish Iceland). During the Napoleonic wars, Spain was turned into the Republic of Spain, forcing the Spanish royal family to flee to Portugal and then onto Britannia after the Retreat of Lisbon. With the arrival of the Spanish King, His Royal Majesty, King Ferdinand IIV, family asking for help, the Britannian Empire, under Ricardo I von Britannia, used them to de jure claim for the 'Reconquista de Nueva Grenada' of Reconquest of New Grenada.**

 **The King was installed as the new Grand Duke Gran Columbia and Viceroy of Area Three, both titles still held by the same line, and went on to further aid in the conquest of the rest of Latin America, in the Reconquista, installing King Peter III of Portugal as Grand Duke of Brazil, Prince Infante Carlos as Grand Duke of La Plata, King Ferdinand I, King of Both Sicilies (IE*) and Grand Duke of Gran Peru, and Prince David Lon Britannia as Grand Duke of Patagonia.**

 **During the North-South (Also know as the Britannian Civil) war, many of the Latin American Grand Dukedoms (Gran Columbia, Mexico, Mosquito, The West Indies, Brazil and Gran Peru) tried to leave Britannia due to Britannia not holding up their end of the bargain by not retaking their homelands in Iberia and Italy as well as the treatment. This created the Pan-Latin Confederation, who for four bloody years, fought tooth and nail for independence, managing to move their borders up to Saint Francis, California and Houston, Texas, changing the name of the former back to its original Imperial Mexican name, San Francisco.**

 ***IE = In Exile**

 **Grand Dukedom of New Grenada, Encyclopaedia Britannia**

C2: High Society

Dusty salt flat appeared before her as she slipped out the back of the cargo aircraft, like a vast dried seabed. The dry heat had the sort of clogging effect on the nose that made it painful to inhale quickly but also tended to make the back of one's throat as dry as bone, so coughing among her associates wasn't all too uncommon. The slim man in front of her, with his carefully messed up hair, sand covered deck shoes and tacky blue suit jacket/khaki chino combination, he walked out arms wide as he addressed the crowd around him. "Your Highness." He bowed somewhat politely enough, though it would take an idiot to not be able to tell that the man in front of her wasn't as slimly as the slicked backed hair of one of his 'portly' _Sicario_ 's. "In a wasteland such as this, you are a sight for sore eyes." His mouth moved upwards, his eyes revealing nothing behind large designer sunglasses. "I'm so happy you've come to my little corner of Britannia."

"Hélmer Guevara." She said in a voice thickly laced with false sweetness. "It's so good to see a man of your reputation has come to meet a woman such as myself." She was wearing a simple dark purple business dress with a pair of reflective sunglasses hiding piercing eyes.

"Why would I ever skip the chance to meet the first princess of the empire, Guinevere de Britannia? It would be as if I skipped a royal summons."

"You flatter me, Hélemer, no wonder you are such a woman's man." She retorted as his smirk became toothier. "So Guevara, what do you have for me?"

He gestured to a table with a large spread laid out before them. "After you, your highness, I'm sure these discussions will make you thirsty. Some tea? Coffee? Or perhaps your highness would like something a little stronger? Only the best for such an esteemed business partner." The large table was set out on a wooden boardwalk.

"A fresh cup of coffee would be perfect, I'm in Area Six after all." She sat down and grabbed the manifest before her.

"Now we, the Bogotá Cartel, as you can see before you, are interested in expanding our relationship further. Moving more Refined Coca out of Gran Colombia and into Miami, Alexandria and New York as well as branching out into newer markets such as Pendragon and Saint Francis."

One of Guevara's men moved up and poured her some coffee, as she gently placed the manifest down and combing her hair back out her eyes and behind her ears. "Hélmer, you know that our relationship has been more than simply beneficial. With my Royal Marked crates able to get your produce in without checks, and you providing me a solid slush fund…"

"However…"

"However, there is only so much I can do eventually someone will get suspicious why a literal metric ton of unknown goods always seems to arrive from northern Area Six every month. And as much as your people grow some of the best coffee in the world, there is only so much that HMRC, the National Crime Bureau, and the HODI will ignore before they have to start looking. The way I see our relationship is as follows. We are your baseline, simple? You have to find other ways of getting it out of the Area's and into the Homeland, but we are a source of guaranteed income. As for expanding your business elsewhere? I'm more than happy to let you expand as far as you want."

"Your Highness…" The toothy smile shrinking into a thin line

She feigned a sad smile and leaned forwards. "I know it's disappointing that we can't grow this blossoming relationship through internal smuggling, I do have something that might make it up for you. How about I give you a front in Pendragon, you know how hard it is to get a permit for a business in the District. What do you say? It would be so sad to see the past few years of friendship to go down the drain. Hélmer, I am expecting great things from you, I know you wont disappoint. I'll get you the documents. Sir David." She waved one of her royal guards over, who passed over a manifest. "I'll this here, have look over it, and I hope to here from you." She smiled as she stood up, before finishing the coffee, and against all of her years of etiquette training, picked up a sugarcoated pastry and shoved it in her mouth. "Tata now." She waved before walking back into the plane, leaving a slightly annoyed Narco Kingpin in her wake.

The RAF C-09 A3, Hermes Class, Heavy Cargo Plane flew over Mexican Area Three. Guinevere sat in an office overlooking the man cargo hold, which, in typical Britannian fashion, was ridiculously large, with over one thousand five hundred cubic metres of space. A large spread of papers littered the walnut desk next to a silver tray containing a freshly made pot of coffee. The silver heard princess sat away from the hold and over to a pair of large ledger books containing her accounts and interactions with the Bogotá Cartel. She wouldn't dare put the documents on something as sensitive and vulnerable as a computer. She had two copies of the book before her, one in De Britannia household in Pendragon, hidden in among a plethora of out-dated books on computer coding from the nineties. The one before her was, at face value, a thick book based on the ' _Development of a Compact Air Regulated Siphon for use in Storm Sewage Overflows_ '. Not something one would pick up at the airport for a quick read.

The rim of the cup met her lips as she tapped away at the calculator next to her. There was currently about fifty metric tons of pure, uncut, refined coca in hold below her with a gram of the pure stuff worth over three hundred pounds sterling. So that meant she had about fifteen billion pounds of merchandise beneath her, all marked with her families royal cypher, allowing her to get the boxes to be passed through interior customs with them getting checked. Of course they were put down as coffee, that she gave as gifts to her friends, stored in opaque airtight bags, that she gave during 'diplomatic meetings'. Of course there were some bags that were actual coffee, allowing her to slip by any over-zealous customs officer who wouldn't take a bribe. The plane made a number of flights between Gran Colombia and Miami, often landing in places that she had residences, allowing her to guise each flight as an inspection of the family's holdings, though it was more of a front to throw off the scent.

It was about three thirty, Pacific Time, and she got up of her chair and stretched. Going for a small walk, she paced out of her office, and into a stairwell between the office and the cockpit. Stepping down the staircase and into the hold she began to loosen off somewhat, hours of sitting at her desk proved to cause her back to ache. Outside the admin section, the aircraft was Spartan, with a lack of the wood and plastic coverings that hid the ugly shell like she did upstairs. There was a number of interesting items in the hold, a pair of Royal Guard, BA KMF-16 A2, Gloucester Class, Knightmares, a small armoury and an BA APC-16 A2, Hermit Class, Armoured Personnel Carrier. The Hermit was painted with a flat green finish with her royal cypher painted in a rectangle next to a Britannian flag on one of the slopped edges of the armoured plating between two rows of reactive armour. It was a gift from an Area Three Noble under her patronage, to keep in her good books. It was an A2 model, making it the most modern and technologically advanced fighting vehicle in the Britannian Army. It was intimidating, standing nearly twice her height with advanced forty millimetre automatic turret designed for infantry operation, and laser-guided, Chaos-Variant, Anti-KMF missile system. Guinevere, a person not often fazed by matters of military prowess, was impressed with what the Britannian Military Industrial Complex developed.

"You Highness?" Guinevere nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned around and saw her knight of honour, David Heyworth, appear behind her, decked out in his working greens, a layer of sweat covering his face and a smearing of oil over his hands, his olive green beret hanging out his trouser pocket rather than his mop of blonde hair. "Never thought of you as an admirer of military technology?"

She snorted. "Never have and never will be, but this large chunk of metal looks and feels intimidating. "

"That's the point. Earl Thompson, he is one of many military industrialists who want to make the knightmare obsolete. This is a prime example, an APC which challenges modern Knightmare doctrine, of primarily, infantry, KMF's, artillery and VTOL's. You should see some of the designs of Challenger Four Pikeman, which is basically a tank chassis with the main turret replaced with a rack of Thompson Dynamics Chaos Missiles and two sponsons firing self-propelled anti-tank-KMF rockets."

"Yes."

"I take it I lost you at Modern Knightmare Doctrine."

"Pretty much." She laughed, gaining a quiet chuckle out of Hayworth. "So Sir David, how can I help you?"

"Your Highness just got off the intercom, the Nav officer would like a word with you, supposedly there is some news out of Pendragon."

"Thank you, David."

Slipping back up the stair and into the spacious cockpit where three uniformed royal guardsmen sat at their respective stations. The navigator, the only one who was allowed to stand up, rose to attention and saluted the incoming princess. "Ma'am."

"Lieutenant Fredrickson?"

"Your Highness, we have a slight situation. There's been a terrorist attack in Pendragon, we just got it patched through from ground control Mexico City, and HM's Cabinet is dead, all but Cornelia and Odysseus. I'm sorry for your loss, but the dead includes your half-brother Schneizel."

Guinevere was lost for words. "Schneizel's dead?"

"Yes Ma'am."

She gripped the handrail as the Fredrickson moved her into his chair as the colour drained from her face. "I see." She breathed hard.

The co-pilot, Captain Welsh, spoke down the radio. "Erm, we're getting a hail from a pair of Kilgharrah Fast Attack Fighters, they are saying that they are here to escort us into Saint Lucy Air Base."

Major Royce turned to his co-pilot. "Tell them that we are flying to Nellis, due to McCarran's likely closure. I'll double check the commands accuracy with LOCAIRCOM. We have a royal on board so we have right of passage."

"Yes, sir."

"This is Captain Welsh, of the De Britannia Royal Guard, we are currently en route to Nellis, and we intend to continue on our pre-planned route. We have a royal on board that should get to Pendragon as soon as possible over." He turned back to the Major. "They still are insisting we land as Saint Lucy, royalty be dammed."

"Something's not right here. LOCAIRCOM isn't responding to my hails. Fredrickson, get the everyone into a secure position in the hold."

"Yes, sir. Your Highness."

Still in shock, the princess, the lieutenant put a hand on her shoulder, bringing her back into the real world. "Ma'am, we need to move you into a seat."

"Yes, Lieutenant." She stood up and began to make haste down the stairs and into the hold where a number of her guards were either grabbing their equipment from the armoury or strapping themselves into the seats in full combat readiness gear. Clearly, the captain had called a possible combat situation. Frederickson guided her to her seat and grabbed a vest from the armoury and slid it over her head.

"Your Highness, everything will be fine."

"Brace, Brace, Brace." The Lieutenant was suddenly lofted above her along with a number of the guard as the aircraft suddenly nosedived. Frederickson reached out and grabbed some of the wall's rigging, and moved himself up to the upper level and onto the upper deck of the hold. The plane banked to the left, slamming the lieutenant into the upstairs rigging. Guinevere saw the man struggle into the seat through the holes in the catwalk as the weightlessness began again. There was a rip a loud noise as Armour Piercing rounds penetrated the hull of the aircraft firing a shot through one of her guardsmen. The blood-forming red bubbles to float in the air before suddenly it flattened into the ingresses of the hold's floor with a mighty splash. "Everyone please remain in the brace position, we are about to make a hard landing."

The Emperor looked up from the pile of paperwork in front of him. As much as he passed off duties to his two oldest sons, he still was an emperor. Filing away another form, a knock at the door caught his attention. "Yes?"

"It's Waldstein. Your eldest is here in regards to an audience."

Charles glanced at the clock on the wall, it was reaching five in the afternoon and the radio he had on had already informed him of the bombing of the Cabinet building. "Come in." The two men walked into the simple five-by-ten-meter office, littered with filing cabinets with documents, files and stray sheets of paper dotted on every available surface. They were about to drop to one knee. "Don't bother… This is about the bombing I take it."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Odysseus, why did you come? I thought Schneizel would have informed me." He said putting his pen down on top of a small mass of papers, looking up to meet his gaze.

Odysseus sighed. "He's dead, your Majesty, only Cornelia and I are left of the cabinet, the still living perpetrators are being shipped to HMCF Jean and SIS Black Mountain, sir."

"Huh…" Charles thought out loud. Of all his children to die, Schneizel was the last one he expected to go, especially due to something a terrorist attack. He was one of the few children he actually saw as fit for the throne; yet somehow, Odysseus managed to out live him. He looked at his son, still garbed in his Coast Guard uniform, though the flack vest replaced his officer's jacket, the helmet loosely hanging from one of the PALS webbing loops. The smell of burnt cordite hung off him, a few spots of blood peppered his face. "Who else knows?"

"The news hasn't been let into the government district, on my orders, so it should just be the Metropolitan Police, the Royal Guards, and the Staff. Everyone knows about the attack, but no one knows the details. Before I left to here, I made sure no one gets in or out without permission from either the police or from mine or Cornelia's guard, on top of that they must be vetted, report to a police station within a week and stay within CAND."

"Very Good. Lord Waldstein, could you leave the two of us please."

"Right Away, Your Majesty." He made a polite bow.

"Odysseus, sit." His hands gesturing to the ornate, neo-classical sofa next to a walnut, paper filled, coffee table. "We need to have a talk." He got out of his own seat and poured two mugs of tea from the pot next to the window. Passing one with milk and two sugars to Odysseus, the Emperor sat across from him. With his powdered wig off, Charles ran his hand through short greying brown hair, sighing as he leaned back in his chair. "Odysseus, how are you feeling?"

Even somewhat surprised that The Emperor remembered how he likes his tea, but his eyebrows twitched with mild awe when the questions didn't go straight to business. Breathing out slowly, he spoke. "Surprisingly calm, considering I'm only alive because I ran late. I'm not happy by any stretch, but I'm fine, I'm just not looking forward to having to deal with the widows and widowers and their families. Well, that, and trying to stop the government from collapsing, with half the nobility from killing each one another in the power vacuum. As of now, according to the constitution, I'm in control of the government, You Majesty withstanding and all."

"Cut the Your Majesty crap for now."

"Okay?"

"I know you might think I'm acting strange, being caring and all, but at the moment I can't be bothered keeping up appearances. Contrary to popular belief, I do genuinely care for my children's safety and happiness, as much as my track record says otherwise. That's something you will have to learn quickly if you even think about replacing me in the future."

Leaning back stiffly, Odysseus met his father's gaze. "I don't even want to be Emperor, I like a middle management role over being a CEO any day of the week. Sure I was always going to be crowned even if Schneizel lived, but you a probably knew already that I was just going to be a figurehead to him. He gets to run the country, and I just sign whatever is in front of me, much like I already do as Steward. He's the one with all of the political connections."

There was a knock at the door. "Yes?" Charles asked.

"Your Majesty, you should see this," Waldstein said, pushing open the door. "It's Guinevere."

Odysseus looked at his father and saw all its softness drain.


End file.
